


Okay, Okay

by talkingsoup



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Finger Sucking, Fingering, M/M, Mettaton Is Not, NSFW, No Ecto-Penis (Undertale), One Night Stands, Sans Is Inexperienced, Sensitive bones, Undertail, handjobs, magic sex, mettasans, turns into fluff at the end, weird monster sex, what am I even doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11818107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingsoup/pseuds/talkingsoup
Summary: Mettaton has never been with a skeleton before.





	Okay, Okay

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, goatmom.

“Wait, uh. Hold on a sec.”

Mettaton paused with his hand halfway up Sans’s shirt.

“Too fast?” His voice was a flirty, metallic purr, but the question was genuine. That was the frightening thing, really. Everything about him right now was _genuine._ His expression was open, if perhaps still somewhat bewildered about what they were doing. His eyes searched Sans’s face.

“Nah, just…” Warm, metallic fingers were pressed against the middle of his spine, which made it hard to think, let alone speak. The bed was soft enough that Sans was pretty sure he was sinking into it. He supposed technically it was _Mettaton’s_ bed, seeing as he owned the hotel. Mettaton’s eyes glowed in the dim light, and Sans wasn’t sure if it was magic or LEDs.

“Just, uh, you’re…you’re really okay with this? I mean, heh. You’re Mettaton.” Sans grinned up at him. “I’m basically the least fashionable lay you could have.”

Mettaton pressed his free hand to his mouth and gave a perfect giggle.

“Sans, it’s not like we’re _dating._ Besides, intimacy isn’t about fashion. I’m here to have a bit of fun, not be photographed.”

Mettaton shifted his position on Sans, knees digging into Sans’s femurs, not unpleasantly.

“That’s…ah, the thing, though. I mean, I’m _fun,_ but not really for…” Mettaton’s fingers settled experimentally between Sans’s vertebrae, hand encircling his spine. “…f-for this sort of thing. Not much of a looker, heh.”

“Like I said, I’m not here for fashion.” Mettaton let go of Sans’s spine and trailed a finger along it toward his ribcage instead. Sans shivered. “You were very funny up on stage earlier. You’re good for conversation. I’ll admit, I had a fairly low opinion of you at first, but I have a fairly low opinion of _most_ people. I’ve gotten to know you better over the past few weeks, and…”

Mettaton’s eyes hooded.

“I find you…interesting.” He suddenly grinned wickedly. “Plus, I’ve never been with a skeleton before.”

“C-Couldn’t resist the novelty, huh?”

“Mm, something like that.” Mettaton slipped his hand into Sans’s ribcage, curiosity on his face. Sans tried and failed to stifle a small gasp, and Mettaton smiled again. “I wasn’t sure if you would even feel this, or if you could at all. What a delight to find that you can. Your bones are rather sensitive, aren’t they?”

“Only, heh, only when I want them to be.”

“Ah. So you do want this.” Mettaton leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Sans’s forehead, stroking the underside of his sternum as he did so. “Does this feel good?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“And here?” Mettaton’s fingers slid carefully between Sans’s ribs..

“Mm, yeah, yes.” Sans cast around for a bit until he caught hold of Mettaton’s free hand. “Metta, I’m--h-heh, I gotta warn ya, I’m not real…real good at this. People don’t usually…I mean, it’s me. I’m not, uh. I don’t usually go in for this kinda thing, and most don’t bother to try, yanno?”

Mettaton shifted a little so he could look Sans in the eyesockets better.

“Sans, do you want to stop?”

Sans considered the hand in his ribcage and Mettaton’s weight on him. He was warm. Sans could feel the robot’s magic humming beneath the metal plating.

“No.” Sans grinned sheepishly and looked away. “No, I…this is nice. Guess I’m just a little…nervous, and uh…plus it’s kinda been a long time since I…”

“I understand. Truly.” Mettaton’s smile turned sheepish as well, just for a moment. “I am a little nervous as well. Like I said, I’ve never been with a skeleton, so I don’t…well, I’m not sure what will feel good to you. You will have to guide me.”

God, this was awkward, though Sans had a feeling it would be a thousand times more awkward if he was entirely sober.

“I, heh, I can. Do that. You’ll, uh. Have to kinda guide me too.”

Mettaton chuckled a little. “I suppose we’ll both just have to _feel_ our way through, won’t we?”

“Pfft. I thought comedy was my job.”

“I have many, _many_ jobs,” Mettaton said with a wink.

Sans reached up to touch the interlocking plates that made up Mettaton’s abdomen, just above the heart-shaped glass chamber.

“How’s this?”

“Mm. Lower, sweetie.”

“Like…” Sans’s fingertips trailed along the edge of the glass. “Like this?”

Mettaton gave a pleasant little sigh.

“Ah, that’s nice. You’re getting the idea.” Mettaton leaned down to kiss the edge of Sans’s mouth. “I suppose kissing won’t work so well.”

“No lips,” Sans said, voice lowering. “No tongue, either.”

“What a shame. You’re missing out.” Mettaton kissed the side of Sans’s neck and Sans made a sound against him, both hands reaching for the glass chamber now. “This is alright, though?”

“'Long as--hh--long as I don’t gotta clean off lipstick later.”

“Oh, _honey._ As if I wouldn’t wear MTT-brand colorfast lipstick!” Mettaton ran his tongue along Sans’s cervical vertebrae all of a sudden, making Sans flinch and gasp.

“Sh-shit.”

“Liked that?” Mettaton did it again, tongue working between each vertebrae. Another sound escaped Sans, and he gripped the edges of Mettaton’s glass chamber in response, hauling his waist closer. He pressed a hand against the heart-shaped pink light and found it warm.

Mettaton made a lewd sound and ground the chamber against Sans’s hand. There was a click and a compartment at Mettaton’s groin slid open, revealing…

Sans blinked.

“Oh.”

“Ah.” Mettaton sounded mildly embarrassed. “Well, there that is.”

The cock was the same dark metal as the rest of him, shaped from dozens of interlocking plates that gave it a flesh-like pliability. It was fascinating from a purely engineering standpoint.

Mettaton was hard already, and his cock was pressing against Sans’s femur.

“This always happens when I drink.” Mettaton brushed his hair away from his face, exasperated. “Lowered inhibitions does some interesting things to the mechanics.”

“I, uh. Heh. Heh, I’d usually h-have a joke here, but…” Sans made himself look away from Mettaton’s cock and up at his face instead. “But, heh, nothin’s coming out.”

“Well,” Mettaton said, regaining his composure and smiling, eyes lidding partway. “If we do this right, then hopefully we will _both_ be coming eventually.”

“Hhh…”

“You’ve gone all pink, darling. I had no idea skeletons could blush.”

Sans resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Mettaton leaned down again and pressed a kiss between Sans’s eyesockets. The bone there tingled.

“You’re so shy, Sans,” Mettaton whispered, staring into Sans’s eyelights, gaze sultry. “Honestly, it is rather adorable.”

“Shut up.” Sans tried to look away, and ended up looking down between them again. “I--Metta, are you--do you wanna use that, for…?”

Mettaton tilted his head thoughtfully. “Would it even work? Do you, ah…” He drew back a bit and gave Sans’s shorts a contemplative look. “You don’t, ah, have anything _there,_ do you.”

Sans was pretty sure he was red as ketchup at this point.

“No, uh. No parts. S-Sorry. Just bones.”

“Can you, I don’t know. Make something with magic?”

“Not really? Doesn’t really work that way.”

“Mm, then how _does_ it work, darling? How do skeletons…?”

Mettaton bit his lip and Sans gave him a cheeky grin.

“Fuck?”

“If you want to be _crude.”_

“Heh.” Sans shifted beneath him so that he could sit up a little. He reached for Mettaton’s hand and took it, lacing their fingers together.

“It’s…touch, mostly. Like I said, bones can be pretty sensitive when I want them to be.” There had to be a lot of trust involved, but Sans decided not to tell Mettaton that part. “And we use magic. Like…”

He squeezed Mettaton’s hand a little and let his magic slink forward, tentative but warm. He felt it make contact against Mettaton’s own, and a few small white sparks jumped between their fingers.

Mettaton gave a shaky little gasp.

“Ah…oh, I see…”

“Was--that okay?”

“Mm, yes, very.” Mettaton pulled Sans’s hand down toward his erection. He shifted himself forward and guided Sans’s hand over the shaft, giving a little shiver at the contact.

“Now do that again.”

Sans obeyed, running his hand up and down the shaft of Mettaton’s cock, magic pulsing out from his bones like heat. Mettaton rocked forward into his hand with another of those little gasps. The sound alone made warmth spread out from Sans’s soul.

Sans stroked him again and Mettaton reached up to grab fistfuls of Sans’s shirt.

“This needs to come off.”

“O-Okay.”

Mettaton worked his shirt and hoodie up over his head, Sans lifting himself a little to assist. It was awkward keeping one hand on Mettaton’s cock while he tugged off the clothes. Mettaton tossed them aside as soon as he’d pulled them free. He paused for a moment, looking Sans over, gaze lusty and mischievous.

“The clothing adds at least thirty pounds, darling.”

Sans snorted. “Hey now. At a time like this? I’m just big-boned.”

“And yet like this…” Mettaton pressed a hand to Sans’s sternum, snaking his fingers between ribs. Sans breathed a little faster. “You almost seem delicate.”

“Heh.”

“You’re…ah.” Mettaton jerked a little as Sans began stroking him again. “You’re not so bad looking, Sans.”

“Pfft. Leave the jokes to me.”

Mettaton leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sans’s sternum in answer. It was distracting enough that Sans didn’t notice Mettaton’s other hand moving downward.

Until it slipped down the front of Sans’s shorts. Sans jolted as warm fingers pressed against his pelvis.

“If your ribs are that sensitive…”

“Hhhh, holy--”

“Ah, so I was right. You’re _very_ sensitive here.” Mettaton’s hand moved, exploring Sans’s pelvis. Sans gripped desperately at the sheets with his free hand.

“M-Metta, mmm…”

“So this is good, is it?” There was a note of curiosity in Mettaton’s voice. His fingers slipped upward, carrying magic with them as they entered Sans. Sans gasped and his back arched. He slapped his free hand across his mouth to stop a whimper from escaping.

“You’re warm there.” Mettaton purred and pressed another kiss to Sans’s chest, starting to trail kisses along each of his ribs. “I can feel your magic. It’s _soft._ Who would have thought a skeleton would be so soft?”

Mettaton paused just long enough to pull Sans’s shorts down and all the way off. He tossed them away with a careless flick of his wrist. Then he hooked both of his thumbs up into Sans’s pelvis again. He bent almost double to press a kiss to the upward sweep of an iliac crest.

“M-Metta, oh g-god, please…”

“You like that, mm?” Mettaton pushed his fingers up into Sans’s pelvis again, one at a time, fingers grazing against the subpubic angle. Sans bit down on the back of his hand to keep from crying out.

Mettaton bucked a little against Sans, and Sans realized that he had stopped stroking Mettaton’s cock without thinking.

“Together, now.”

“S-Sorry, sorry…”

Mettaton’s fingers began massaging the inside of Sans’s pelvis. At the same time, Sans worked his hand up and down along Mettaton’s length. They were rocking against each other, making the bed springs squeak.

“You’re getting the hang of this, Sans.” Mettaton gave a quiet, robotic moan and pushed his fingers in deeper. Sans made a muffled sound against his hand.

Mettaton reached up and drew the hand away. He raised it to his face and kissed Sans’s knuckles.

“I want to hear you, darling. You’re so soft-spoken. Quiet types like you usually get loud in bed, I’ve found.”

“Ahh…shit, Metta, I-- _nn.”_

Mettaton drew two of Sans’s fingers into his mouth and sucked hard, running his tongue along the delicate bones. Sans didn’t have the best grasp of what counted as attractive or appealing--he experienced such things so rarely that he didn’t have much of a scale. But watching Mettaton’s face while he sucked on Sans’s fingers was objectively one of the hottest things he’d ever seen.

In fact, his whole body felt incredibly warm.

Sans leaned upward just a little, keeping his hand on Mettaton’s cock but slowing his pace.

“Metta, I--this--this is okay, right? This is r-really okay?”

Mettaton stared at Sans with something like amusement, and for a moment, Sans was afraid Mettaton was going to start laughing. But then the amusement smoothed away into a fond smile. He pulled Sans’s fingers out of his mouth and gently pushed Sans back down against the bed, lacing their fingers together. The hand in Sans’s pelvis moved in deeper and Sans gasped, reflexively tightening his grip on Mettaton’s cock. Mettaton gave a shaky moan.

“Sans, darling, I wouldn’t be--ah, be here if I didn’t want this.” His hand went still. “Are _you_ okay?”

Sans squeezed Mettaton’s hand.

“Yeah--yes, I’m--i-it’s good--it f-feels good.” Sans squirmed a little beneath him, trying to urge Mettaton’s hand to start moving again. “Sorry, I’m--I d-don’t mean to be weird. Please…”

Mettaton’s smile turned mischievous.

“‘Please’? Oh, Sans, you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

_“Ah,_ Metta, come on…”

“Please what, darling?”

Mettaton shifted one finger against Sans’s ischium and Sans jerked against him.

“You asshole,” Sans warbled, body trembling. “Y-You’re really makin’ me beg when I’ve g-got my hand on your dick?”

Sans ran his thumb up the underside and over the head, then pressed against the slit. Mettaton cried out and a spasm ran through him, static electricity crackling beneath Sans’s bones.

“Okay,” Mettaton gasped. “Okay, fair point.”

Sans thrust downward, drawing Mettaton’s hand in deeper, until he was wrist-deep in Sans’s pelvis.

“Please,” he whispered, “fuck me.”

Mettaton’s hand moved again, fingers caressing bone, nails digging into sensitive joints. Sans whined and started to cover his mouth again before he remembered that Mettaton wanted to hear him.

“Ah, Metta, yeah, like th-- _ahh!”_

Mettaton had found Sans’s sacrum and was pressing his fingertips into the small holes there.

“O-Oh god, oh my god, right there, _M-Metta…”_

“Found a sweet spot, mm?” Mettaton purred and pressed harder. Sans gave a helpless little mewl.

It wasn’t fair, though. It wasn’t fair that Mettaton was making him feel so damn _good,_ when all Mettaton was getting out of this was a mediocre handjob. He had to do better--had to reciprocate more.

He moved his free hand downward until he found the glass of Mettaton’s heart chamber again. He lay his hand over it and let a few sparks of magic jump against the smooth glass. Mettaton bucked and thrust himself deeper.

“Oh, _yesss!_ Darling, don’t you dare stop.”

“O-Only if you don’t.”

Everything was so _warm,_ bright and sparkling. Magic jumped like electricity between them. Sans kept his hand over Mettaton’s heart chamber, digging his thumbs along the edges, eliciting moan from Mettaton every time he let his magic flow forth. His other hand worked Mettaton’s cock, his pace quickening. Mettaton reached higher inside him, _higher,_ until he could wrap his fingers around the base of Sans’s spine.

“M-Metta, ah!”

“S-Sans.” Mettaton’s eyes were hooded, hair hanging in his face. “You’re doing so well, darling. Ah, _yes.”_

The words were like fire in his marrow. He’d been so worried that Mettaton would be disappointed with him, but Mettaton sounded _far_ from disappointed. Sans hardly even knew what he was doing, and all the movement and energy was quickly wearing him out. He just had to last long enough to get Mettaton over the edge.

Sans pumped Mettaton’s cock in time with pulses of magic into his heart chamber. Mettaton’s grip on Sans’s spine tightened and he braced his other hand against the mattress, bending over Sans, mechanical breath quickening.

He looked beautiful.

“Sans,” Mettaton gasped, voice fuzzing over with static. “Ah, that’s good, Sans, _yes, oh, yes!”_

Mettaton jerked and then went rigid. His soul throbbed in its glass chamber and he came hard, spilling liquid magic over Sans’s hand and pelvis. He gave a sharp little cry and then went limp, almost collapsing on top of Sans, breathing hard. He bent low enough that his hair brushed against Sans’s ribs.

They stayed like that for a few moments, just breathing.

Then Mettaton pushed himself up a little, enough so that he could look into Sans’s eyesockets. His eyes were bright, a lazy little smile gracing his mouth. He ran his thumb up and down Sans’s spine and Sans shivered beneath him.

“Mm, that was nice. Very nice.”

Sans had to stop himself from asking if he did okay, figuring that it was obvious. He grinned up at Mettaton and finally let go, hands falling to his sides.

“G-Glad you li- _iiioh…”_

Mettaton let go of his spine and slipped his hand downward again, fingers going back to Sans’s sacrum.

“Your turn, darling,” Mettaton said, gathering Sans’s wrists together in his hand so he could pin them above Sans’s head.

“Y-You don’t have to if you don’t--”

Mettaton silenced him with a kiss right beneath Sans’s left eyesocket.

“I want to,” he said, hand moving faster now. “Did you think I was just going to leave you like this, after you’ve treated me so well?”

“M-Metta, mmm, oh god, I…”

Mettaton kissed him beneath the right eyesocket this time, harder, lips lingering against bone. His fingers moved down Sans’s sacrum to his coccyx, pressing a finger to the tip.

Sans’s back arched and his toes curled. He squeezed his eyesockets shut and cried out. Heat was gathering inside him, somewhere beneath his soul. His bones felt like they were humming. He hadn’t felt like this in so long.

“I want to see you come, Sans,” Mettaton whispered, running his tongue up the side of Sans’s neck. At the same time he pinched the end of Sans’s coccyx between his thumb and forefinger.

Sans bucked hard and made a strangled sound, the heat almost unbearable.

“Say my name, darling.”

“M-Metta,” Sans cried, undone. “Metta, _Mettaton!”_

He came with a jolt, heat flooding his marrow, magic pulsing from him in a flash of sparkling white, illuminating his bones. It felt like a tidal wave that began in his soul and spread outward, enveloping him. He gave a soft little moan, twitched one last time, then went still. His breath was hitching, and it felt as though his nonexistent heart was racing.

Mettaton sat back a little with a contented sigh. He carefully withdrew his hand, and Sans gasped just a little, his bones overly sensitive. Mettaton let go of his wrists and took Sans’s face in his hands. Sans stared up at him, eyelights bright and blown wide.

“You alright, Sans?” he said softly, brushing Sans’s cheekbone with a thumb. “That was quite the lightshow.”

“Y-Yeah,” Sans said, breathing starting to slow. “That’s…how we, uh…”

Mettaton gave a quiet chuckle, smile a little lopsided.

“I see.”

He fell silent, staring down at Sans with that odd little smile, idly stroking Sans’s cheekbone. Sans lay his hand over Mettaton’s.

“What’re…what’re you looking at?” Sans asked when Mettaton didn’t say anything.

“You’re just look rather lovely like this, darling,” Mettaton said, smile broadening. “You lit up like a firework. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Sans grinned and gave a breathy laugh.

“Guess it’s not technically…afterglow if it’s during, huh?”

Mettaton chuckled again, then leaned down and pressed his forehead to Sans’s. Sans closed his eyesockets and simply breathed for a moment. He was content. He was _happy._ It had been so long since anyone had made him feel this way--since he had been this close to someone.

The torrent of emotions was a bit much for him. He needed something safer.

“You know, you’re good at this,” he said. “No one’s ever _boned_ me like that before.”

Mettaton made an undignified sound.

_“Really,_ Sans?” he said around a laugh. “At a time like this?”

“Comedy is all about timing.”

“I _suppose_ I can’t argue with that.”

Mettaton pulled away and rolled off of Sans onto his side, stretching out like a sleepy cat. Sans turned over as well. He wasn’t sure if maybe he was supposed to be getting up to leave now, but Mettaton still had an arm draped over him. That seemed like a good indication that he was supposed to stay, for the time being.

Mettaton pulled him a little closer, until Sans was curled up against him.

“I think I made a good decision with you,” Mettaton whispered, kissing the top of Sans’s skull. The action was so tender that Sans felt a little like he was about to melt into Mettaton’s arms.

“S-Same,” he whispered back, burying his face against Mettaton’s chest so the robot wouldn’t see him blushing again. “Like I said, I don’t…do this often, so I kind of--s-surprised myself when you asked and I said yes.”

“Ah, I hope I wasn’t too pushy.”

“You weren’t.” Sans felt around until he found Mettaton’s hand. He took hold and squeezed. “You really weren’t.”

Mettaton stroked the back of Sans’s skull. Both of them were silent for awhile.

“Metta…” Sans asked hesitantly after a few moments. “Is it okay if…can we stay like this for a bit?”

Mettaton made a soft sound and kissed him again.

“I don’t have anywhere to be, darling,” he said. “I would love to spend the rest of the night with you. If you want.”

“Y…Yeah,” Sans said, glad Mettaton couldn’t see his relieved smile. “Yeah, I’d like that. If you’re okay with it.”

Sans curled a little closer, sleepy and content. He heard Mettaton yawn.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
